


The Path To Paradise (The Road To Ruin)

by notalone91



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:06:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22582237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalone91/pseuds/notalone91
Summary: Tumblr Prompt: Wait for me! I'm coming, too! (Reddie)Eddie's not dead.  Richie knows it.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44





	The Path To Paradise (The Road To Ruin)

**Author's Note:**

> If you're a Greek Mythology purist or are okay without a happy ending, stop reading at the Asterisk.  
> I, however, am still not okay with not giving them a happy ending... so there's that.

6 months. Or, if you ask Richie, 5 months, 3 weeks, 4 days, 17 hours, 27 minutes. 28...

That’s how long Eddie’s been gone.

Again, that’s only if you ask Richie. Gone. Anyone else would say dead. Bill, especially, has been adamant about repeating it over and over. Dead. Like if he can get Richie to believe it, it will help him grieve, help him move on. As if that will remind him that it's worth it to shave and eat, shower and see the sun. As if that will cleanse the feeling of Eddie's blood from his skin. As if that will erase the memory of Eddie's triumphant smile fading into a pained wince, then the vacant stare he wore as Richie was dragged away. 

“God damn it, Bill, he’s not! I would know! I would feel it!”

Bill sighs, for what feels like the billionth time since they sat down for coffee. Once they went back to L.A., Bill had made it his mission to helicopter parent Richie as much as he could his newly-remembered childhood best friend. “Man, I know what it’s like,” he starts. When Richie moves to interrupt, he closes his eyes and clasps his hands around his coffee cup, “I do. But you have to face-”

“No, you have to face that this is not the same as it was then.” Richie’s words make Bill recoil and he slumps his shoulders forward. “I didn’t mean...”

“I know,” he says, staring at the top of the cup. “Just, try. For me.”

When Richie gets back to his apartment that night, Bill’s words are ringing in his ears.  _ Just, try. For me.  _ He huffs, slamming back into the corner of his couch unceremoniously.  _ For me.  _ “Like I didn’t do all sorts of stupid shit I didn’t want to do for the majority of my childhood by giving in to Big Bill and doing things for him. Fucking bullshit...” He wriggles down and folds his arms, glaring straight forward. He knows he’s pouting, and talking to himself. He doesn’t care. It’s not like anyone can see him to comment on it anyway. Even if there’s an all-too-familiar voice in his head saying  _ Jesus Christ, Richie, you’re forty not fucking four.  _ He smiles to himself. But just as soon as the smile is curling at the edges of his mouth, it’s gone, slammed back into a frown. “That’s it!” For me. He wouldn't be in this mess if it wasn't For Bill. For me. "Like helping you find Georgie and finding fuckface in the first place?"

He stands up and, without thinking, walks out of his front door, locking it, and punching a destination into his phone for an Uber ride out.

When he checks his watch, leaving the airport in Bangor, it's been 5 months, 3 weeks, 5 days, 6 hours, 23 minutes since he's seen Eddie. That's nothing, he reminds himself. It was 20-odd years before that. He can do this. He closes his eyes to steady himself as he waits on line at the Enterprise window. He can't believe he's doing this.

Derry is still standing, unfortunately. 5 months, 3 weeks, 5 days, 7 hours, 41 minutes haven't changed the town any. The collapsed lot on the corner of Neibolt street seems to have gone untouched. And he's supposed to think that it's over? When the curses break in movies, time clicks on again. This is terrifyingly, painstakingly the same. Richie can't steady his racing heart.

Eddie is down there. Eddie has been down there for 5 months, 3 weeks, 5 days, 7 hours, 51 minutes. 52. 53. He's gotta get in. He settles into his knees and digs. It's slow work, he thinks. His mind flits to a piece of prose Ben and Bev used at their wedding.  _ It's rotten work. Not to me. Not if it's you.  _ Tossing handful after handful of debris over his shoulder, he laughs at himself. A passerby would swear he was insane. Maybe he is. 

Finally, he's made a hole big enough that he can see into what remains of the cellar. Namely, the old well, because of course that's the thing that stayed standing. 

Richie stands back and stares. It's eerie. He can't even begin to reconcile the processes that got him to that point.

It's a stunning realization, but he can't remember the collapse. He can't remember the escape. He lets out a sob when he realizes that the only things he remembers after defeating It are Eddie’s lifeless eyes on him and limp weight in his arms and then someone holding him back and dragging him along as he screamed and sobbed and fought. 

“A lot of good that did,” he thinks as he climbs down into the cellar. “All you did was prolong the inevitable.” In the blink of an eye, Richie is gone, climbing down the well and into the tunnels.

The navigator of the Losers had always been Eddie. His keen sense of direction had, in their youth, kept them out of quite a few scrapes. “Come on, Eds,” he whispers to himself. “Give me something here. 

His footsteps in the empty sewers sound like gunshots. His breathing has turned into heavy pants. Somehow, quicker than he expects, he’s in the heart of the cavern. There’s still the splash-like formation in the center. The collapse doesn’t seem to have affected the structure as catastrophically as he’d have imagined. He stares around the space. It shouldn’t feel familiar. It shouldn’t have relaxed him to find this place. He shouldn’t have known it was fucking there. 

Striding through the center, his hands brush over one of stalagmites where Pennywise met his end. He stops, remembering the way the ashen remains of Its heart floated.

“Forget something, Richie?”

An all-too-familiar voice echoes through his head. He clenches his eyes shut, sets his jaw, and continues to walk toward the far wall, not ready for what he's about to see. He doesn't believe that Eddie's dead. He knows he's not. But on some level, he can't help but realize that there is a chance that, maybe, he's going to open his eyes and see the one thing that will break him. On some level, he knows that  _ if  _ Eddie  _ is _ dead, what's left behind is going to be gruesome. 

That won't be the case. Eddie's alive. Eddie's alive and he's getting him out.

"You Losers turned my heart to crumbs. Pretty little cookie crumbs, like someone's secret snack," the voice simpers. "Something sweet between the sheets that makes you feel dirty." 

Richie would have sworn…

But it couldn't be. He'd seen it. He'd been a part of it. It was dead. 

Still, there It was, standing right before him as his eyes open. "Even with four eyes, Bucky Beaver can't see the forest for the trees." He leaps toward Richie, who hardly reacts. He doesn't care anymore. It's the same tricks every time. He's not afraid. Pennywise tilts his head to the side and smiles. "Didn't Bevvy tell you? No one who does here ever really dies."

Just as the clown is saying it, it dawns on Richie.  _ No one really dies in Derry.  _ His heart stills in his chest.  _ Eddie _ .

From a step behind, Eddie appears, healthy, whole, and wearing his leather jacket. It's a little too long and it's wet enough that it's weighing Eddie's shoulders down visibly. He moves forward, eyes meeting Richie's. 

Between the two men, Pennywise smiles broadly. He's almost salivating. Richie, on the other hand, is trembling. 

_ There's _ the fear. Richie remembers the first time. He remembers how Bill had been forced to shoot his baby brother, then watch his mangled form morph into Pennywise. It's a trap. He knows it. He takes a step back and flinches, shoving his hands into his pockets. Not like this. It can't be like this. 

Richie can only think of one way to confirm that it's Eddie. "Let me ask him something," he says, eyes darting between the two. "I need to know you're not fucking with me."

Breath catching in his throat, Eddie opens his mouth to speak but can't find the words. Pennywise giggles and lets it happen. What would it hurt?

He knows that there are 27 years worth of things he could say to get the confirmation he needs. Problem being, he doesn't want to tip It off. What is something that Pennywise won't realize Richie didn't tell him? He stares at Eddie for a moment, needing it to send a message to him, too. 

That night, at the townhouse, Richie had owned up to everything. Eddie had bared his soul to him. They had plans. They were going to make up for lost time. They were going to end up together. But now… 

Another 5 months, 3 weeks, 5 days, 11 hours, 15 minutes had passed since Richie felt that future start to slip through fingers. Staring at the only man he's ever loved, he thinks over the anecdotes he thought he'd have time to share. He's worked in Hollywood long enough to know this trope well. This is the part where he is supposed to say something romantic and sweep him off his feet. This is the part that's supposed to be all feelings and sweeping violins. This is the part where they ride off into the sunset. 

But this isn't that movie. His isn't that life. Eddie is no swooning damsel. He never has been. He never will be.

This life requires a smartass response so that they both know it's real. And it has to get the right response. It has to be something that a Pennywise invented Eddie would just go along with. More than that, Eddie has to understand what he's doing. That's the easy part. No one's ever understood Richie more than Eddie. 

Then, it hits him. All the things he said that night at the townhouse and the day after, there was one thing, one stupid little phrase, that he had chosen not to say. It would have been too much.Now, though? Now, he knows that it’s the key. 

“Where was the first time I told you I love you?”

Pennywise smirks. It expects a mushy answer; something deep and meaningful. 

There's a moment of doubt; the barest flash of a soft emotion registers in Eddie's eyes and Richie's heart skips a beat. However, in true Eddie form, he puts the pieces together and that fire Richie alone can spark rages. "You tell me this now?" He snaps, left hand bisecting his chin as he rambles. "In the bowels of hell?" 

Richie smiles, taking a step forward and right into the erratic waving of the hands he's been so desperate to hold. He reaches for him and let's him smack at his arms and shoulders as the emotion bubbles over. 

"I was dead, Richie!" Eddie whimpers as he grabs fistfuls of his shirt. "I was dead and then I wasn’t and now I’m here and I don’t know how long it’s been but after all this? All fucking this," both men are on the verge of tears; Eddie scared and exhausted and frustrated and so fucking in love while Richie is so relieved and grateful and, even though he could be scared, he's not. He's determined. Eddie continues, his edge softening, "You show up and the question you ask is one that there is no real answer to because-"

With a step back to take in all of Richie, Eddie swallows thickly. "You never fucking told me that." He shakes his head as the tears he's tried so hard to banish begin to fall. "I died never hearing you say that you love me and now I’m here and-"

He hadn't needed to be reminded of that. Richie knew well enough that he had never really said the words. When he’d laid it all out on the line that night at the Townhouse, Eddie had just about forbidden it. He said it felt like bad luck. He said that he could tell him when it was over. Tell him in the daylight. Tell him when it doesn’t feel like the world is ending. Instead, he’d leaned up and kissed him, pulling him crashing down into the bed with him. Richie had acquiesced, no matter how reluctantly. How could he not when the world was ending and he had everything he’d ever wanted, everything that had been missing, wrapped warm in his arms and tight against his chest? He was sure that they’d get the chance.

And then he wasn’t. 

And then he was pretty sure that they wouldn’t.

"And-and-and…” Eddie stammers, nuzzling his face into Richie’s hands, cupping his cheek. Any recognition of the fact that they were not alone was long since abandoned. “And you’re here. You're here because-”

Richie had learned his lesson. He was not letting the chance pass him by again. “I love you.” He pulled Eddie in and kissed him again, steady and sure. He keeps one hand on Eddie’s neck, pulling him closer, the other hand trailed to his hip. He can feel Eddie trembling, whether from cold or malnourishment or nerves, Richie can’t tell. For all he knows, it could be anything down to the kinetic energy that had kept him going through every chapter of his life leading him to this point. He pulls back, breathless and takes Eddie by the hand. “Now, let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“Please,” Eddie says, allowing himself to be tugged along beside Richie’s much longer strides. He can almost still feel the rigor mortis in his limbs. It almost slows him down, but then he remembers that he can run. It’s hard to remember that far back, but he’d imagine that any muscle reacts to newfound motion the same. He thinks about the startlingly pleasant burn in his lungs on that first day he allowed himself to try to run. If his legs react similarly, he can do it. More than that, he thinks, he can do anything as long as Richie’s encouraging him to do it. Hell, he just came back from the fucking dead. He  _ can  _ do anything.

They reach the mouth of the tunnel at a run but find their way blocked. As if from nowhere, Pennywise drops from the ceiling before them. “Not so fast,” he calls in a sing-song. “Did you think it would be that easy?” He shoves Richie back, grabbing Eddie and shoving him behind, just as they’d stood when Richie’d first come upon them. “Did you think I'd just let you go?” He drapes his arm over his shoulder demonstratively and Eddie is too startled to struggle as much as he should. He’s too close to limbs he knows are too apt to turn deadly. 

Richie’s eyes flick between the two. He surveys the exits. His eyes settle back to Eddie. He isn’t much interested in Pennywise. He’ll figure that part out. Right now, he’s just got to get to Eddie. He can feel him slipping through his fingers and he’s not about to let that happen.

Unfortunately, neither is Pennywise. “I’ve gotten used to having my little Eds here. If you’re going to take him from me, you have to prove something to me,” he adds with a deceptively placid giggle.

“Prove what?” Richie says, fingernails dug into the flesh of his palm. He readies his weight on the balls of his feet. Adrenaline courses through his veins. Fight or flight?  _ Fight  _ or  _ flight _ ?  _ FIGHT OR FLIGHT _ ? His whole body is screaming at him to make a decision. Doesn’t matter, really. No matter which impulse he succumbs to, he’s not going anywhere without Eddie. Not again. Not while there’s still breath in his body.

A nauseatingly saccharine smile curls the old clown’s face into the menacing visage that’s haunted Richie’s dreams forever and so recently. “Prove that you two belong together,” It says simply.

That stings like a smack to Eddie. He fumbles, then pushes It off, nearly flying to Richie’s side.. “The fact that the minute I saw him, I forgot that I was married until someone brought up the ring isn’t enough?” He wears his anger like a mask. Before Richie rang that stupid fucking gong back at the Jade of the Orient, Eddie wasn’t sure he belonged with anyone. Richie made him feel. More than that, Richie made him feel  _ alive _ . If that wasn’t proof enough, Eddie couldn’t come up with a single thing that would help.

The wife that had sobbed crocodile tears and lashed out at Richie when he’d shown up on her doorstep with Eddie’s belongings, save for a few items he may or may not have nicked for his own nostalgia, trudges her way back into Richie’s mind. Suddenly, guilt encircles him like that fucking golden band. The golden band, Richie suddenly realizes as the fingers of Eddie’s left hand entwine with his own, that has been discarded. Then, it clicks. “Forgot? You forgot you were married?" Richie asks, astounded. "That's why it took-"

Squeezing his hand tighter, Eddie reprimands him. "Richie, not helping," he says, eyes wide. 

"Sorry," he replies reflexively. Richie knows that that would have earned him a beep from any other Loser, but Eddie never would. 

"Not enough," Pennywise tuts. "You need to trust each other, but more than that, you-" he jabs a yellowed fingernail into Richie's chest, "need to trust yourself."

Richie freezes stock still.  _ Motherfucker _ . He knows how Pennywise operates but somehow, he wasn't ready for more mind games. The only thing truly on his mind for months had been to get Eddie. Nothing else mattered. 

Seemingly, Eddie is less concerned. If there's one thing in the word he knows he trusts with everything he has and everything he is, it's Richie. "That’s it?" He asks. Trust Richie. Done. 

Confirming it, Pennywise clasps his hands together and smiles menacingly. "That’s it."

"Done," Eddie says, too naively confident for his own good. "So we can go?" 

Richie pulls him behind him warily, eyeing the old clown with utmost scrutiny. There's a catch. He knows it. All he can hope is that, this time, he can get them both out in time. Hope. 

"You can go," It says, stepping aside and letting them pass. They don't fit side by side with Pennywise there. Eddie falls in behind, hands dug into Richie's jacket. Then, It calls out sweetly. "But don’t you want to know the rules?"

They stop. They turn. "Rules?" Eddie asks, suddenly aware of how much harder this is really going to be. 

"Of course! Every game has rules," It says. 

Eddie stomps his feet, then turns around in a tight circle. "Fuck! What are the rules?" His patience is running out. He can't take the cold and the damp and the smell any longer. 

Moving toward the men, fingers steepled and drumming against each other, Pennywise starts. "Well, since Richie found a way to get to you, the first rule is that Richie has to be the one to get you out," he says, tapping his finger against Richie's nose. Eddie moves to smack his hand away and the clown growls. "No help from you, Eds."

"That’s easy enough," Eddie concludes, glancing up at Richie, who still hasn't said anything. Eddie's concerned. Richie's mouth never stops, so for him to be this silent for this long, Eddie's sure whatever has him going can't be good. 

Still, Richie stares squarely at Pennywise. He's waiting for the other shoe. None of this has anything to do with him trusting himself. If it's a test for Richie, there has to be more. There's something else. 

The old clown's eyes shift, then light up. "Good. I’m glad you think so," It says, near giddy. Eddie starts to nudge Richie out, but he feels a pressure on his bicep. "One more thing…"

"What?" Eddie snaps. That's more than enough, he thinks. Still, he knows that couldn't be all. That would have been too easy. Still, he keeps Richie's hand in his. He's afraid of the next stipulation. He doesn't know why, but he just is. This is going to be the bad one. He knows it. He can feel it in his bones. 

He turns to address Eddie, since Richie seems numb to, or better from, his torment. “If you’re to return to Derry, you can’t touch each other or see each other’s face until you’re both above.” The men look at each other, wordlessly locking their fingers together tighter. Pennywise gives them a demonstrative shove, parting them until they’re single file. “You walk one behind each other.” It giggles, then adds a teasing, “Out of sight, out of mind.” 

It’s left eye moves independently to regard Eddie. “You’re silent. You’re patient,” It commands. Eddie nods. He knows better than to challenge. The clown’s eye drifts back to Richie.

They’re locked in a staring contest Richie is bound to lose. Pennywise stares unblinking. “You trust that he’s still there.” He inches closer, the stink of death heavy on his breath threatens to suffocate Richie. Somehow, though, he powers through. “You do this, Richie, and you get your man; your dirty little secret a secret no more.” He can hear the ages-old sing-song of Pennywise’s taunts echoing in his brain and he’s powerless against it. “You do this, and Eddie walks free, once you're both in the Sun.” It smiles sweetly; the most terrifying display yet. 

Pennywise shrugs and sighs. “A simple price for everything you’ve ever wanted,” It says, making it sound like he has no ulterior motives. “What do you say, Richie?” It prompts. The space where It’s eyebrows should be rises toward his hairline. 

Eddie can’t take it anymore. “Done,” he says, tone final. 

“The trial isn’t for you, Eddie Bear,” It coos, and Eddie flinches at the usage of his mother’s pet name. It turns and pinches at Eddie’s barely scarred cheek. “The trial is for Bucky Beaver.” 

Suddenly, Richie’s back in the moment, jaw squared and ready to fight. Pennywise doesn’t seem to notice. He continues on. “He’s had six months to let all of those old wounds you reopened fester and rot. They’ve infected him,” he spits, teasing at Eddie’s deeply rooted fears. “They’ve made him weaker than he already was. And now he has to do it all alone.”

The three are silent. It waits for Richie’s acquiescence. There’s no moving forward without at least a verbal agreement.

“5 months,” Richie corrects quietly. His voice is sharp and sure. Finally hearing it calms Eddie a little and he sinks in against his back. 

Richie’s redirection startles It. “What?” It nearly growls. 

“5 months, 3 weeks, 5 days, 11 hours, 20 minutes. That’s how long I’ve had,” he explains. He reaches his hand back to find Eddie’s waist and pulls him close. “ _ That’s  _ how long I’ve had to be sure enough that I can’t-” He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “I can’t live in a world where Eddie isn’t so I fought my way back to Derry and, if he was dead, then fuck if I wasn’t going to be, too.”

Worry flows through Eddie. What was that supposed to mean? Certainly, he hadn’t come down there with the intention to… He can’t let himself think it. He hears Bev saying to the place where Stanley wound up and ignores it. “Richie…” he whispers, pressing his cheek to him.

Staring down their childhood tormentor for what he can only hope will be the last time. “We’re doing this. We’re getting out of here.” It’s his vow. That’s as close to a yes as Pennywise needs. Before they get moving, Richie tugs Eddie in front of him and kisses him. Leaving his hands on his cheeks, he whispers, “You and I get to walk out of Hell. Together this time.”

“You’re braver than you think,” Eddie responds with a smile, letting Richie’s kiss distract him again. “And you’re not doing it alone. I’m behind you all the way,” he says. He knows that if the tables were turned there would be a comment about having the better deal because he can stare at his ass the whole way. 

Before Eddie can move to make his own dirty comment, Pennywise shoves them apart again. “Enough,” he spits. He gives Richie a push and then points for Eddie to follow like a dog. “Go.” His commands are short. They’re fair. Before the men are even at the end of the tunnel, Pennywise calls out one final thought. “You have nothing to fear but yourself. So why can I still smell you, Richie?”

Maybe because I haven’t showered in days, he thinks. He silently apologizes to Eddie in his head for it.

That’s the thing, really. The reason Richie is sure he can do this is because it’s exactly what he’s been doing for the last five odd months: knowing Eddie’s there, but just out of reach. He can’t see him, can’t hear him, can’t feel him, but he knows he’s with him. 

They walk back through the tunnels. It’s quiet, Richie scrutinizes. He can’t hear anything. He can’t even hear footsteps. He isn’t sure when they stopped. He wants to ask if Eddie’s okay. He wants to hold his hand. He wants to be sure. But he knows. He knows he can’t. He doesn’t know what happens if he fails It’s little test, but he’s not particularly invested in finding out. 

If the road to hell is paved with good intentions, what does that say for the road out? In Eddie’s case, whatever it’s paved with is drowned in 18 inches of greywater. He wants to gag, but that would distract him and he might lose Richie, so he forces it down. Digging deep into his, or rather, Richie’s jacket pockets, he’s a little surprised he hadn’t tried before. There’s not much: a pack of cigarettes and a cheap lighter, the receipt for the gas station where the cigarettes were bought, a bright purple Pilot G2- which Eddie knows doesn’t mean anything, but the fact that it’s his favorite style of pen in a color that just screams Richie makes him smile- and an American Airlines napkin with the Loser’s names written on it in that same bright color. His eyes hover over his own name, circled, starred, with a heart on the opposing side, followed by a question mark with the words ex, crush, and love scrawled in Richie’s jagged, nearly illegible handwriting. Having experienced something similar as his memories came back, he knows there’s a voice memo on his phone with names, descriptions, and other things he could remember. When he got to Richie, he stopped. He couldn’t put his finger on why he was so important, so Eddie decided it would be best to address the matter when he was alone. Address it, he did. If his phone was still intact, he thought back to the note where he had typed out “Richie - Comedian - Doesn’t write his own material - Important to me - Gay? Boyfriend? Did he know? Did I know?” He’d pressed enter a few times, granting a page of blank space before typing out “holy shit, I’m gay,” admitting it to himself and whatever government agency was watching his phone for the first time ever. He wants to say it. He wants to tell it all to Richie. Instead, he settles for screaming silent encouragement in his head.  _ Wait for me, _ he thinks,  _ I'm coming, too. _

The dark had never been something particularly scary to Richie before. But now, as fear consumes his every thought, the shadows begin to morph. There are things he knows can’t be there, not really, but every sound becomes a trick of Pennywise’s creation. The drip of water from a far off pipe? Something fell from It’s tattered suit and hit the water. The phantom clang of wind knocking an old vent plate out of place? Eddie falling and getting left behind because he can’t know what’s happened. He walks slower than he needs to, just to make sure that Eddie doesn’t lose him. 

He trudges on through the dank and the dark until he reaches the hatch and they have to climb. The rope is still there, thankfully, as he starts the ascent. 6 months ago, he was sure he’d have never had to make this trek again. He didn’t even want to make it then, not without Eddie. Now, with the end so close he can almost taste it, he’s hit with a vision of a world where he makes this climb again and again forever. He crosses his arms at his chest. 

_ It’s cold for hell,  _ he thinks.

Eddie hums a laugh. Inside his head, he can hear Richie making snide remarks in the performative way he’d done on all of their previous trips to the sewers. Deep down, he knows that’s not what is happening just up ahead of him. Still, it helps him keep calm. He knows that that had always been some of the point. Richie did it to quiet his own mind, so he would always try to use it on Eddie. 

Somewhere along the line, he remembers taking some online quiz about love languages. His had been Acts of Service followed by Physical Touch. That doesn’t surprise him. All his life, Richie has loved him so well that he can’t help but imagine what life AD,  _ After Derry, that is, _ looks like. He thinks about what their house will look like. Waking up and cooking Richie breakfast. Even though he knows Richie’s the better cook, he’s definitely the morning person. Richie working from home, Eddie working close enough to home that he can swing in on his lunch hour. Nights on the couch watching shitty old movies that Richie will insist are art. Trips with the other Losers. Maybe a dog, a kid… A life. A good, beautiful life. They may be forty, but there’s time. There’s always time. As soon as they’re out of this fucking sewer.

Richie knows the way out. They’re almost there. He knows the well is nearby. He doesn’t even have to pay much attention to where he’s going. That is a rather unfortunate fact because that leaves his brain entirely open to the doubt.

Along the way, he can't help but give himself over to it. His mind wanders to Eddie, just out of sight, but never,  _ never _ out of mind. Every turn, he worries that he's moving too fast and Eddie didn't catch which direction he'd turned. Every sound, he worries that Eddie's hurt, that Eddie's been taken back by Pennywise. 

The worst worry he encounters, though, is the worry of what comes after. Is he enough? What if it's all been a trap? What if the life in Eddie's eyes had been a trick of the light? The warmth in his touch a phantom memory of what could have been?

It would make sense to Richie. It would make better sense than a third chance at this life he so desperately wanted. He left him down there for however the fuck long it had been and he expected him to just be okay with that? He should never have left. Eddie had to hate him now. Who the fuck does he think he is? Expecting Eddie to follow him like some sort of lost puppy? 

Eddie had a life before he came back to Derry. No matter what they shared, he had to go back and close that up. Eddie wasn’t the type to abandon anything or do it halfway. Richie knew that. As soon as they reached the surface, if they reached the surface, Eddie would split. And Richie couldn’t even find it in himself to blame him.

They reach the well and Richie looks up at the dim light of the basement, wondering how that had happened. Had they been down there that long? He steadies himself and grabs onto the rope. Let's get the fuck out of here, he thinks. 

They start their ascent. They reach the basement and Richie starts to book it. Every muscle in his body tenses as he sprints toward the hole he’d dug in the rubble. When he finally reaches the ground on Neibolt Street, he drops and reaches his hand in to help Eddie up.

Eddie takes it.

Their eyes lock on one another, sharing a smile. They’re safe. 

Suddenly, Eddie realizes what they’ve done just at the same time that Richie yanks his hand back as though burned, scrambling backward away from the wreckage. “Richie,” Eddie whimpers. It’s the same tone of voice as when he started to realize he’d been impaled and it makes Richie’s blood run cold. 

Richie can’t see what’s going on. He leans back into what’s left of the Neibolt basement and tries to pull Eddie up. His hand passes right through. 

From the well, there’s a laugh. Pennywise appears, sitting on the ledge with Eddie being drawn back to his lap. It holds Eddie’s limp, startled form at arm’s length. “You just couldn’t do it, couldja, Richie?” It sneers. “You just had to be the one to botch the simplest instruction,” It says. Richie tries to move toward them but finds himself frozen in place.

“Eddie!” Richie screams, sliding back to the basement. A strangled sob catches in his throat. “Fuck!”

That same curled grin plays at the old clown’s mouth. “Oh, well! Better for me, I guess.” He parts his lips, baring rows of jagged teeth, snarling and drooling. “Call it a midnight snack-

“No, wait! I didn’t-” Richie tries to interrupt. He tries to move. There’s a beam. He thinks he could reach it, if only his limbs would cooperate. 

While he’s busy trying to figure out how to free Eddie, Pennywise unhinges his jaw and takes a bite, swallowing Eddie’s arm whole. 

The last thing Richie sees before he faints is blood. So much blood. It’s too much again. Too much like before. He lost Eddie again. He failed Eddie again and he’ll never be able to live with himself.

The first thing Richie sees when he comes to is flashing lights. Smaller things come into focus. He feels someone on top of him. Someone must be doing CPR or something. He doesn’t want to wake up. He doesn’t want to come to if

“Rich! Rich! Hey, Rich, wake up!” His vision swims and there’s pain. So much pain. Why is there pain? His hips, his ass, his back, his head, everything feels bruised, like he landed in the water at the quarry wrong. Then, his eyes focus and- He can’t believe it. He’s in the caves again. Eddie’s on top of him with his dopey headlight. “Hey! Yeah! Yeah, there he is, buddy!” 

What.  _ The _ .  **_Fuck_ ** . Richie’s been here before. He’s seen this before. He’s seen… Blood. So much blood. “Hey, Richie, listen!” 

Finally able to get his mouth to cooperate with his brain, he groans, pushing himself onto his elbows. “Not now. Run!” Richie manages to sit up. Eddie’s still straddling his lap and, oh, God, he can’t think about that. He has about thirty seconds before his third strike.

“I think I got him, man!” Eddie cheers. He’s so proud of himself. He finally believes that he’s brave and he was. 

Despite himself, Richie leans forward and watches the giant Pennywise scream and writhe in agony. He puts a hand on Eddie’s neck and pulls him into a quick, forceful kiss that knocks the sense clear out of him. “I love you, Eds. But, you didn’t,” Richie says plainly, pushing them both up to their feet, “and right now we gotta go.” He can see It’s limbs beginning to flail. 

Eddie’s dumbfounded. “You-”

Richie sticks out his hand and grabs Eddie. “Come with me if you want to live.” He doesn’t grant him much of a choice. They take three huge steps and the pincer slams into the ground where they’d been not a moment before. 

Casting a glance over his shoulder, Eddie curses and sprints ahead, pulling Richie along behind him, now. They flee into the offshoot tunnel and regroup. Now that Richie knows what to do, at least to get them out even if it doesn’t actually kill Pennywise, he’s not taking any chances. He fills Eddie in, earning himself a couple of confused looks and startled yelps. Before long, they’re heading into the center, where the losers are all scrambling for safety. 

Richie calls out a taunt. Eddie tags in. They each take shots and then, Eddie sticks the landing. “We never believed in you anyway! You wanna know why?” he screeches, drawing attention to himself and grabbing Richie’s hand. “We have each other! You’re nothing! You’re alone and scared and you’re going to die.” 

“You’re a corpse,” Mike calls from behind. He leans over to the others and says something that Richie can’t quite make out to their friends, all of whom are all hiding behind rocks nearby, watching and waiting. “You’re insignificant and rotting and this world won’t remember that you existed.”

The Losers catch on and whirl into action. The taunts are different this time. Sharper. Meaner. All in all, though, the rest of the fight plays out much the same as it did in the Deadlights. Except for one major thing: Eddie.

In the final moments, when Mike rips out It’s heart, Eddie grabs the leather vase and holds their hands inside of it. As the heart disintegrates, it lands in the vessel and he nods at Mike. “Torch it again.” 

Mike blinks, then nods. He fumbles in his pocket for the matches, then, with Bill holding the box, strikes the match and drops it in. Their tokens go up once more, along with the remains of It’s heart. There’s a crack behind them and, in bright green flames, Pennywise’s remains go up, too. 

The walls tremble. They begin to run and run, dodging rocks and debris as they go. Neibolt collapses in around them. This time, though, they’ve all made it out. Standing in the middle of the road, they have a moment of awestruck silence. It’s over. Bill hugs Mike, pressing their foreheads together. Ben stands behind Bev, his arms around her waist, cheek to cheek, staring as the house levels in. 

Richie can’t watch it again. Instead, he turns to Eddie and kisses him. It’s a long, deep desperate kiss, full of years of lost time. His knees buckle and he sinks to the ground on them. Eddie follows and, this time, Richie doesn’t overthink it.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that didn't feel too cheap or contrived but I struggled for like a week to come up with a way to make this into something I could be okay with. The first draft included Richie wandering around Derry aimlessly until he (drunkenly) jumps off the quarry and, when he reaches the afterlife, he sees Stan who explains that Eddie's still not exactly dead because he was dead the first time and now he's a shadow and they'll never be together. The second draft was the "fuck the ending of orpheus' story" and they made it out and kissed in front of the setting sun. I finally settled on this one because it felt more like a completed thought. I'm still not 100% happy with it, but it's better than I expected.


End file.
